deltacookieThe reason for my airline rage: No cookies! So the flight attendant who lost it and “de-planed” in a delirious fit is getting lots of press these days, all because of his unique version of road (or in this case, air) rage. I get it.

Certain things can really push people too far, especially when it comes to airline travel. For some, it’s those darn delays. Others can’t tolerate the tight leg room between seats. You know what gets me mad in flight? No decent snacks.

I’ve always been the kind of gal who prefers sweets over salts, so the typical options of pretzels or peanuts are a big fat “pass” in my book. I’d rather eat nothing, thanks. But when I board a Delta flight, you bet I’m counting on snacking on some of those yummy Biscoff cookies they offer. They are these yummy, crunchy cookies that come two in a pack (not that two is ever enough for me—I always request an extra!). I really look forward to them on my flights any time I know I’m taking Delta (which, living in Atlanta, is more often than not). Once, I even convinced the flight attendant to give me a couple to take home (I still wish I had her name to tell her just what a rock star that made her in my mind). But on the flight I took today from Atlanta to Orlando, I was denied. That’s right. No Biscoff cookies for me. If we weren’t already mid-air I might have been pulling a quick exit myself, following Mr. Flight Attendant in my own fit of rage.

After recovering from the shock of being rejected this must-have travel snack, I explained to the flight attendant that I didn’t prefer the peanuts he passed out, but really had my heart set on the cookies. He explained those were only for the morning flights. I corrected him (how long have you been flying on these planes anyway?), letting him know just yesterday I was on an afternoon flight from LaGuardia to Atlanta and I was given a choice: peanuts, pretzels or Biscoff.

Well, he explained, you get a choice on a longer flight, but no such luck if you’re only in the air about an hour. Huh? He’s making this up, I’m thinking. I was sure he had some hidden in the compartment up front and he only needed to double-check. He insisted that was not the case. And let me tell you, I could not be more disappointed.

“But sir”, I pleaded,”the Biscoff is the reason I fly Delta”, and I meant it. Though price and times play into things, it’s true the cookie is the deciding factor. I didn’t want to have to release my rage, but I couldn’t believe my cookies hadn’t magically appeared already. He promised there were no cookies to be found, so I sat, on the verge of starvation (ok, maybe that’s extreme), but very much on the verge of a real tantrum similar to Mr. Flight Attendant’s fit.

I would have lost it, right then and there, if I had the energy a couple cookies would have provided. But no such luck for me on this flight. All I could do was throw an imaginary fit. In my mind, I was up on the intercom, declaring,“no one leaves this plane until I get my Biscoff”. That image was quickly replaced by a flash of the air marshall tackling me to the ground and hauling me off to jail for my fit, just like the flight attendant. And that just wouldn’t do because I know they can’t possible serve Biscoff behind bars.

Interested in more on air rage?  Click this article with tips for your children here.